More Than What You See
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Arthur struggles to prove that wizards have reason to respect Muggles. Or, Arthur ends up saving a band of Aurors and one stuck-up Slytherin with Muggle technology.


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :)**

 **Women's History: Influential Queer Women Task 1: Write about someone having to prove themselves in a work environment.**

 **Word Count: 2810**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Arthur Weasley ran his hands through his red hair. His face was crimson with embarrassment, and he was silently chastising himself for getting himself in this situation. Of course his old classmates wouldn't understand how important Muggle technology was.

It was his first year out of school, and he'd already gotten a job with the Ministry; while this would normally have been an impressive feat, many people were under the opinion that he could have chosen a better department to work in. Arthur always protested that the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts was not something to be scoffed at; wizards bewitching Muggle knicknacks had become a real threat to the Statute of Secrecy.

He was sitting at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, however, with five wizards who disagreed. His old schoolmates seemed to be under the impression that Muggles were a primitive people, and Arthur couldn't let them think something that was so obviously false. Muggles, after all, had done incredible things without the aid of magic.

Arthur cleared his throat, ready to stick up for his beliefs. "Actually, Muggle technology is extremely impressive—they have found way to do things that no magic can accomplish—"

"That's quite enough," came the quiet voice of Lucius Malfoy, one of the few people in the world Arthur truly hated. At school, Lucius had always had always seemed to delight in stepping on those less fortunate than he was, and Arthur had always been exactly that. He didn't come from a well-off family—something he wasn't ashamed of. Lucius, however, had always expressed great delight in mentioning all of Arthur's shortcomings, loudly, and once even in front of Molly Prewett.

The Slytherin approached their table, and Arthur found himself surprised that Lucius would come to this place—he'd have thought it was beneath the other man. Arthur's old classmates immediately stiffened; they had no love for Malfoy, either.

The blond-haired man stopped right in front of them, leaning elegantly against his silver snake-headed cane. "After all, Weasley," he drawled, "Muggles are too stupid to see the signs of magic that appear right before them."

Arthur scowled, immediately on guard. "That, Malfoy, is because we wipe their memories after they see it."

There was a small smile on Lucius' lips, which infuriated the Gryffindor. "Come now, Weasley. What can a Muggle do that a wizard can't do better?"

Arthur wondered when a drink with friends had turned into a debate about the intelligence of Muggles. "Lots of things. They can fly—"

The smile grew wider. "We have broomsticks."

"—in large groups," Arthur finished with a glare.

One of Arthur's friends, Edward Boot, cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Doesn't Beauxbatons have a flying carriage?"

Lucius' cold grey eyes sparkled with mirth while Arthur shot the Ravenclaw an irritated look. "Muggles," he began again, "can light up an entire room with a flick of a switch."

Amos Diggory, a Hufflepuff, clapped him apologetically on the back. "So can we. With a flick of our wands. _Lumos,_ mate."

"They can travel miles in a single day," Arthur argued, thinking fast. There were, of course, things Muggles could do that wizards could never hope to, but he didn't want to mention them in front of someone he suspected to be a Death Eater; the Muggles' nuclear weapons would remain a secret for a while longer.

"Disapparition," chimed in someone else.

Arthur, no matter how hard he tried, could not come up with a Muggle technology that wizards could not duplicate. None of the others seemed to grasp how incredible it was that Muggles had found ways to accomplish such tasks without magic.

Time passed, and Arthur had to head home. He reluctantly stood up, wishing his friends farewell, and ignoring the triumphant gleam in Lucius' eyes. Nothing could convince Arthur that Muggles were of a lesser intelligence; there were some, he knew, that could rival Albus Dumbledore's mind. He just didn't know how to explain that to anyone else.

By the time he reached the small London flat he and his girlfriend shared, Arthur was in a miserable mood. It wasn't pleasant, having one's passion waved aside as ridiculous. Muggle technology was fascinating to him, and he loved to discover how it worked. Some thought him an eccentric dreamer; others just a nutcase. But he knew the true potential of the things he worked with; he saw it plain as day.

"I'm home, love," he called unenthusiastically. He walked into their kitchen after dropping his briefcase by the front door, trying to smile at the woman before him.

Molly Prewett was a short, fiery red-haired woman with a slight temper and the most intimidating glare Arthur had ever encountered; she was the love of his life.

She glanced over at him from where she was preparing dinner. "How was work, dear?"

Arthur pushed his glasses back up his nose awkwardly. "Work was fine. We had to un-bewitch a stomping iron."

Molly paused, the knife she'd been using to dice some carrots hovering in the air. "No one got their hand smashed, did they?"

Arthur recalled all the broken fingers and toes that had had to be fixed that afternoon. "Er, maybe a few," he admitted, "but nothing the Healers couldn't patch up."

Molly sighed a bit exasperatedly before turned to face him fully. She beckoned him over and he obeyed, kissing her softly on her freckled cheek. She cupped his cheek with her hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "I always know when you're upset."

He sighed heavily. "I ran into Lucius Malfoy at the Leaky," he confessed. "He helped convince my mates that Muggles were… primitive."

Molly wrinkled her nose, looking adorable as she did so. "He's quite unpleasant, isn't he? Don't let him bother you, Arthur—he's just looking for a rise. Some men never grow out of their second year." She rolled her brown eyes, and Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.

He was still upset though, and Molly seemed to sense this. Her eyes softened. "I think it's brilliant, how much you care about them," she assured him. "Not only do you care, you've dedicated your entire career to learning about them. You are a wonderfully unprejudiced man, and I love you for that." She stood up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the nose. Then she stepped back, resuming her cutting. "Just remember, love—Rome wasn't built in a day. Changing minds will take time."

Arthur sighed, but he knew she was right. He smiled at her. "You're right. Do you need any help with dinner?"

* * *

Two years had passed since he had run into Lucius in the Leaky Cauldron. Arthur had continued to protest the insults directed at Muggles, but he couldn't be too vocal at work; the last thing he needed was to get fired.

Since he worked with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, that day he found himself accompanying few Aurors and Lucius Malfoy to the home of a wizard who was suspected of enchanting a Muggle lawnmower to terrorize the neighborhood. This was a direct breach of the Statute of Secrecy, hence the presence of the Aurors. Malfoy was there as a representative of Minister Bagnold, to ensure that the suspect was treated fairly. Arthur highly doubted that Lucius knew the difference between what was fair and what was self-serving, but he wasn't in a position to argue. Unlike Malfoy, he hadn't come from a long line of Ministry employees; he'd had to work for his position.

The group walked towards the door of the run-down house, and a chill crept up Arthur's spine. Judging by the way the Aurors—Shacklebolt and Dawlish—reached for their wands, he wasn't the only one who suspected that something was up. Dawlish knocked on the door, but when there was no answer, he flicked his wand to unlock it. The party walked in slowly, and Arthur frowned when he saw that all the lights were out. The air was cold, and when the door shut behind them, they were all launched into darkness.

"Who shut that?" Dawlish asked angrily. Shacklebolt was struggling to light his wand, as was Arthur. "Weasley, was that you?"

"No," Arthur responded, offended that he was the first person that came to mind. "I came in just after you."

"It must have been Malfoy," Shacklebolt agreed in his slow, deep voice. "He was the last one inside."

Arthur could practically _hear_ the other man bristle. "It most definitely was not," he replied, a hint of anger in his normally controlled voice. "Weasley is the only one of us idiotic enough to do that."

Arthur's blood boiled, but before he could retaliate, Dawlish spoke again. "Well, whoever's nearest, _open it_. Our spells aren't working."

There was a rustling noise, and the sound of a doorknob being rattled. When Lucius spoke, there was a trace of panic in his voice. "It's locked."

Arthur stiffened. "There must be some sort of enchantment keeping us from using magic," he said, addressing no one in particular.

Dawlish cursed under his breath. "This was a trap."

Arthur pushed his way past Lucius and tried the door himself. He threw himself against it a few times, but it was useless; they were stuck. "Who exactly," he ground out, thumping his shoulder against the doorframe, "are they trying to trap?"

It was Shacklebolt who spoke. "My guess is that they wanted to take out a portion of the MLE. The Ministry is Muggle-tolerant, and we came here to investigate a lawnmower that was attacking Muggles."

Well, Arthur had to admit that the man had a point. He was disgusted that someone would do this just to advertise discrimination, and by Shacklebolt's— _Kingsley's,_ he remembered suddenly—tone of voice, the Auror agreed.

"You think they just wanted to make a statement with us?" Arthur asked. He was nervous, of course, but he knew that losing his head wouldn't help anybody.

"Yes," came Kingsley's voice. "That's exactly what I think."

There was a moment of intense silence. Arthur knew that, before they could figure out how to escape this strange prison, they needed to turn on a light.

"The walls are moving," Lucius said suddenly, sounding slightly surprised.

Dawlish snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy."

"I'm not joking," the Slytherin stated angrily. "I haven't moved, but they're pressing up against me!"

Arthur stuck his right hand out, only to have them hit a hard surface where there had been air before. "He's right," he gasped. "They're closing in on us."

"We need a light," Kingsley snapped. " _Now_."

Arthur's heart was in his throat. Surely whoever had done this didn't mean to kill them? But then again… they'd been cruel enough to nearly kill Muggles with a contraption with a spinning blade. If they were the example of what happened to wizards who stuck up for Muggles, then the consequence may be more than just humiliation.

A sudden thought struck him. He could feel and hear the others trying spells and pushing against the walls, but he knew that they wouldn't work. However, seeing as this was a Muggle neighborhood…

"Malfoy," he began slowly, frowning. "Do you remember that night a couple years ago, when we had that conversation about Muggle technology?"

"Weasley, if you are going to start sprouting useless facts at a time like this—"

"Not at all," Arthur interrupted. "I'm just going to prove that they aren't useless. This is a Muggle house. There will be a little switch on the wall—that will activate the ekeltr—elortic—the Muggle lights."

Hands found the walls, running blindly along the surface. Arthur thought he heard Lucius mumble darkly about the absurdity of Muggles, but he paid him no mind; they had no idea how quickly the walls were moving. Finally, Dawlish shouted in triumph as an orange glow lit the entry hall they were in.

The walls were still going at an alarming rate, but with the aid of the artificial light, Kingsley was able to locate a hidden door. They all raced through, only to find that every exit had been blocked—and they were still unable to perform any spells.

Kingsley looked grim, his earring glinting in the dim light of the kitchen they had found themselves in. The walls were so close now that the four were all back-to-back, with barely any room between them. "I don't suppose you have any other fancy Muggle tricks, do you Weasley?"

"Er…" Arthur searched his mind, but the only thing he could think of was Molly. He desperately wanted to get back to her; his beautiful Molly, with her fiery spirit, love of knitting, her delicious cooking…

Cooking. The kitchen. _They had a fellytone in their kitchen._

"Look for a little box on the walls or counters," Arthur ordered. "It will have a cord, and a numbered pad on it. It's a Muggle communication device."

Lucius found it, and Arthur squeezed his way past the blond-haired man. He picked up the fellytone, praying that he remembered his number correctly. He dialed quickly, then held the telephone receiver up to his mouth.

" _Hello, this is Molly—"_

"Molly!" Arthur exclaimed in relief. "Thank Merlin! I almost thought I'd gotten the number wrong."

" _Arthur! Shouldn't you be at work? And you speak a little more softly, please?"_

"Sorry, dear," he said sheepishly. "I—"

"Weasley!" roared Dawlish. "Did you call your _wife?"_

"Girlfriend," Arthur corrected, his ears turning red. "And yes. She's the only one I know with a Muggle fellytone."

" _Arthur?"_

"Dear, I need you to call the Auror department. It's urgent. We're about to be compressed. I'll give you the address."

" _You're what?!"_

Arthur glanced behind him and saw that Kingsley and Dawlish were both pressed tightly against the walls. "Molly," he said, his voice changing into something much more serious. "Love, you need to get us help immediately."

He listed off the address, and as soon as he'd finished, she hung up. Two minutes passed, and the four men were stuck together, hardly able to breathe. Arthur's chest felt tight, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded from the lack of air. A dull pain that was growing more intense by the second was coursing through him, and dark spots began dancing in front of his eyes. He heard the sound of shouts and wood splintering before he blacked out.

* * *

When Arthur woke up, he was greeted by the blinding whiteness of the St. Mungo's ceiling. He groaned, closing his eyes and trying to ward off an oncoming headache. He heard a gasp beside him, and he opened his eyes and turned his head just in time to see Molly launch herself at him.

"Oh, _Arthur,"_ she whispered. Arthur felt immediately guilty when he heard her suppressed sobs. "I was so scared. Merlin, don't _do_ that to me!"

"I'm sorry," he said weakly into her hair. "Mollywobbles, really, it won't happen again."

She pulled back and lightly swatted his arm. "Don't make promises you can't keep," she warned. Her brown eyes were worried. "Why didn't you tell me what was happening the second I picked up that Muggle thing? Why did you act like everything was fine?"

Arthur smiled a bit sheepishly. "I didn't want to scare you."

Molly stared at him in disbelief for a few moments. Then she lifted an eyebrow and gave him her famous glare. "When it comes to you, Arthur Weasley, I want to be calm when I should be calm, and terrified when I should be terrified. Don't you _dare_ put yourself at risk for the sake of my sanity ever again."

Arthur nodded meekly. "Yes, dear."

She peered at him severely for another minute before softening. "Get some rest, love. I'll let the Healers know you're awake—what are you grinning about?"

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, just—well, a Muggle invention saved Lucius Malfoy's life," he answered gleefully. Then his eyes widened and the smile dropped from his face. "Wait, did everyone—?"

Molly nodded quickly. "Everyone is fine. Dawlish and Shacklebolt are a little worse off than you and Malfoy, but the Healers are confident they'll wake up sometime today. And Arthur—" She crossed her arms. "—it's really not that funny that Malfoy was saved by something Muggle."

Well, Arthur didn't quite agree with that. "Just think about it, though," he prompted. "Malfoy'll never be able to call Muggle technology useless again."

Molly rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "All right, fine. The circumstance wasn't funny—but I suppose the irony is."

Arthur beamed, and Molly placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. She left the room with a promise to come back immediately after she alerted the Healers. Arthur leaned back on his pillows and sighed; he was exhausted, but oddly pleased. He highly doubted that he'd be able to change Lucius' opinion of Muggles, but maybe now there was hope that one day things _could_ change.

And somehow, that was everything.


End file.
